


This City

by KateMonster



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, WIP Amnesty, sorry - Freeform, was eventually going to be Frank/Gerard but Frank hasn't shown up yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateMonster/pseuds/KateMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Personal Bandom WIP Amnesty 2016: The Chicago AU.</p><p>Mikey moves to Chicago to be with Pete. Gerard decides to move with him. Chicago is pretty good for a guy's creativity. And his love life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This City

**Author's Note:**

> I know EXACTLY where this was going and I sort of wish I had finished it. I still might, who knows. That's a pretty good place to end a prologue or first chapter.
> 
> Anyway, this was going to be a weirdly different origin story for my Chem where everyone is a little older, Bob is in the band from the beginning, and so is Frank, Mikey is annoyingly in love, and they have to call Ray in Jersey for another guitarist. Van tours in the Midwest are weird.
> 
> Considering how wordy and odd the beginning is, it was probably going to be 45k. Also, you all get to see how terrible I am as a writer before sophie_448 gets her hands on stuff.

The Red Line sucks considerably less than New Jersey Transit. There’s a Dunkin’, a Starbucks, a record store and a park within walking distance of his new job --his new job!-- at a comic book store, admittedly, but they’re giving him plenty of hours and at least it’s a comic book store and not like, well, the Dunkin’. Gerard’s feeling pretty good, pushes his sunglasses up into his hair in the lobby and starts punching the call button for the elevator. He meets his own eyes, reflected in the elevator doors and grins. 

“Lookin’ good, champ,” he mutters to himself, and then he laughs, just glad there’s nobody else in the elevator to see him being a total freak. Not that he would know them. Or care what they thought. It’s not like he really lives here, anyway, he’s just crashing for a while, because as much as he likes Pete, the loveseat is way too small for sleeping.

“Mikey!” Gerard says as he unlocks the apartment door with his -temporary- key and drops his bag in the entryway. “Mikey, I got a job and-- _oh my god_.” He slaps a hand over his eyes and fumbles to pick up his messenger bag again. "Christ, Pete, what are you even doing home?" Oh my god."

"You were supposed to be job hunting," Mikey says calmly. When Gerard peeks through his fingers, Pete's pants are pulled back up over his ass and Mikey is standing, thank fucking _god_. 

"I came home for lunch," Pete says, and shrugs. "One of the perks of living close to the office." He grins widely at Mikey, who kind of shrugs and smiles back. Gerard flails his hands about a bit, which doesn't help much, but sort of makes him feel a little better. 

"I found one," he says sort of helplessly. "And now I can try to find a roommate, so you can go back to _debauching my little brother_ , god." 

"He was pretty debauched when I got him," Pete smirks and reaches out for Mikey's hand and really, "disgustingly sweet" isn't that much better than "actively engaged in sexual activity" so Gerard flails a little more.

"You got a job?" Mikey asks, but Gerard's half out the door by then, with the strap of his bag over one shoulder.

"Going now, so gone. You can go back to, uh, you know..."

"I don't think I can," Pete says. "You're a pretty effective boner-killer, Gerard."

"Sure you can," Mikey says with a smile, pretty much at the exact same moment Gerard's head explodes.

"Don't say boner, Pete," he says firmly. "Remember our deal. I get to pretend that you two just, like a cuddle a lot, because there are things no man needs to know about his baby brother."

"You got it, slugger," Pete says with a salute. 

"Right," Gerard says. "I'm gone."

"You're going to find a roommate in the street?" Mikey calls after him. Gerard pats his bag. 

"Got my laptop. Going to get coffee. And maybe a memory wipe."

"Later!" Pete calls, and as Gerard shuts the door, he can hear them laughing. He smiles, rubs his hand over his face, shakes his head and heads back down to brave the chill of early March in Chicago.

~

"You're _what_?" 

Mikey was standing resolutely in the middle of Gerard's basement. That was definitely the word. Resolutely, or possibly stubbornly. The set of his shoulders said ‘I am totally going to have this fight with you. And I am going to win.’

"Moving to Chicago."

"Chicago?" Gerard said, grabbing onto the long strands of freshly-dyed black hair that hung in his face and pushing them back. "But, like, _why_? And if you say 'Pete' as any part of the answer to this question, I warn you, this fight will get a _lot_ bigger."

"I have a job there." Mikey said, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his head to one side. "And also, Pete." 

"Oh, god." Gerard stood, and in response, Mikey sat, tucking one foot under himself on Gerard's bed. "You met Pete _two months ago_ ," he said. "And he stayed for a week. As far as I can tell, your relationship since then has consisted entirely of texts!"

"And email," Mikey reminded him. "And Skype."

"Mikey, this is bugfuck bonkers." Gerard said and sat heavily down again, this time on the floor. It was Sunday night. He was surrounded by the detritus of a weekend spent sunk in his comic, facing down heading back to the soul-sucking assholes that didn't even want Breakfast Monkey tomorrow, and Mikey picked _just now_ to tell him that he was moving halfway across the country for some guy he barely even knew. "Nutballs."

"I'm in love with him," Mikey said with a tight shrug. "And he loves me."

Gerard sighed.

"I'm going with you," he said, and Mikey smiled.

"Good."

It made total sense. To everyone, even. Their mom was completely supportive, perhaps because she was getting both over-21 freeloaders out of her house in one fell swoop. When Ray heard Mikey was moving, the very first thing he'd said was "You're going with him, right?" to Gerard. The only one who'd been a little surprised was Pete, but Gerard had explained it very patiently over Skype while Mikey was out trolling the Costcos for boxes. 

"I'll find my own place as soon as I can," he said. "But I'm coming."

"Okay, dude." Pete shrugged, the video feed lagging a bit. "If it makes you more comfortable with the whole thing."

And then they'd actually arrived, most of Gerard's shit, his figurines and his dvd's and basically everything else, packed into boxes in the basement that used to be his home, with a promise from his dad that he'd ship them whenever Gerard was ready. They'd gotten off the plane, grumpy and blinking, because neither of them had ever liked flying, and Pete had been waiting at baggage claim, practically vibrating like an eager puppy. Mikey grinned, then laughed and reached out to wrap both hands around Pete's biceps, leaned down to kiss him soundly, right in the middle of Midway Airport. The knot that had been tying itself tighter and tighter in Gerard's stomach for two weeks finally eased a little at the sight. Then Pete turned towards him, smiled sheepishly and wrapped Gerard in a bone-crushing hug.

"Hi," Gerard said, wriggling to get an arm free to hug Pete back, because Mikey was grinning like an idiot as the baggage carousel turned behind him.

"This will be awesome," Pete whispered fervently. "You'll see."

~

**Crash and Save**

For real! We open our home to people between apartments/looking for a job/in difficult circumstances. Use our comfortable couch or furnished guest room plus use of our full bath, length of stay and price negotiable! Three gay men, aged 24-43, recently remodeled kitchen, wireless internet, w/d. Great place to stay for one night in the city, too, and cheaper, more private than a hostel. Call Mike or Gaz at 630-451-3890.

Gerard's phone rings approximately four seconds after he forwards Mikey the ad. 

"They sound nice!" He says, clicking through to the google map of the address.

"They are going to throw you in the lake. With cement shoes."

"You realize we're not in Jersey anymore, Toto?" 

"Chicago, Gerard. It's worse."

"It's also not 1924."

"Whatever, that comfortable couch has probably soaked up the lifeblood of a thousand gullible men. Call Bob."

"What?" Gerard asks and refreshes his gmail. Mikey has replied to his email with "Bob. 312-289-7534."

"He's in sound. Call him."

"You're going to have to give me some more information here, Mikes."

"He's better than the creepers on Craigslist. He runs the board at the Metro semi-regularly. I like him. Call him. Now."

"I'll call him tomorrow," Gerard sighs into his empty Starbucks cup. "I'm moving over to the Dunkin’."

"No, call him now. He's free now."

Gerard blinks and sighs.

"Fine."

It's one bus. One bus from the Loop to Bob's two-bedroom on South State. It's kind of a long bus, but just one. One bus and a short walk to work. Every day. It's not even a high-rise, which always freak Gerard out, so that's good. The apartment is on the third floor, but after Bob buzzes Gerard in, the elevator works like an elevator. It takes him to the proper floor and everything. Bob has a nice smile, a firm handshake and an awesome beard. The apartment is immaculately clean, which other people would see as a plus, although Gerard cringes a little. There's only one bathroom, but, well, he's sort of a once-a-week shower kind of man anyway. The empty bedroom is nice enough, plain white walls, closet, carpet. It's a room, not a closet or a hovel, with four functional walls and a ceiling that doesn't seem to leak. There's a laundry facility in the building, even.

It's only $850 a month, utilities included, split with Bob.

"Okay," Gerard says when they finish the short tour. "What the fuck is wrong with it?" Bob blinks, then smiles. "Are you an axe-murderer? Is there an Indian burial ground under the building? Hungry plant in the basement? Trans-dimensional portal in the pantry?"

"That last one would be pretty cool," Bob says, still smiling. "No, man, it’s just, you know, we’re like, next door to Soldier Field, and it’s an older building. And I'm not an axe-murderer. Besides, Mikey would axe-murder _me_."

"True," Gerard says, eyeing the giant plate-glass windows in the currently-empty dining room. "I'm an artist," he says warningly.

"You said that," Bob says. "I'm a sound engineer. I'm out most nights."

"I am nowhere near this clean, and I work at a comic book store."

"Awesome," Bob says, crossing his arms over his chest. Bob is intimidating. "Pick up Swamp Thing and Superman for me every month."

"Bob," Gerard says with a grin. "This'll be awesome."

"Right?"


End file.
